


Well-Founded Reasons

by Princess_of_the_Pen



Series: Dick & Dami Week 2019 [1]
Category: Batman - All Media Types, Nightwing (Comics), Robin: Son of Batman (Comics)
Genre: Damian Wayne is Batman, Damian is not impressed, Damian's trying his best, Day 1, Dick And Dami Week, Dick Grayson is Robin, Dick shows off the original Robin costume, Dynamic Duo, Feelings get hurt, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-14
Updated: 2019-04-14
Packaged: 2020-01-13 10:31:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,639
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18467137
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Princess_of_the_Pen/pseuds/Princess_of_the_Pen
Summary: “Damian?”Damian blinked, realizing he’d been staring for too long. Richard had yet to still but he had deflated from a joyful jig to an awkward shuffle. His eyes were wide and inquisitive as he wrung a black domino mask between his hands. “So, uh, whatcha think?”“Absolutely not.”





	Well-Founded Reasons

**Author's Note:**

> Day 1: Dynamic Duo/ ~~Nightwing & Flamebird~~
> 
> Here’s the fic for day 1, 6 days late as per usual! I honestly don’t know how it got so long but whatever. It’s a Reverse!Age AU, an AU I’m gonna be exploring in a longer fic that’s in the works right now.  
>    
>  **Shout out the anyone that recognizes the reference and where it’s from!**

Damian hadn’t liked the idea of sharing his mantle when Drake came on the scene. He hadn’t been done with it, hadn’t approved of the new holder, and wasn’t going to let some know-it-all sully the name he had spent so long building. It wasn’t right for Drake to demand his costume, wasn’t fair that Father had let him take it. So Damian had done the only thing he could. **  
**

He took his mantle back.

He had ripped the cape and mask off Drake right there on that rooftop, couldn’t have cared less who saw. It wouldn’t’ve been a threat to their secret identities: Drake wasn’t connected to them, wasn’t apart of the team. Who cared if he was caught in a torn costume on a rooftop in the middle of the night? It wasn’t Damian’s problem. In fact, very little managed to bring Damian as much joy as that moment had. Glaring at the shot down bird, watching him desperately trying to pick up his plucked feathers - it was the epitome of satisfaction. That is, until Batman crashed the moment, swooping in the save the damaged bird and heal its broken wings.

It was probably that moment that motivated Drake to hand over his own mantle when the time came. It was infuriating how Father had praised Drake for giving Todd his suit, but not as infuriating as Drake’s smugness and holier-than-thou attitude. It was so so obvious that he was only passing on his mantle to get under Damian’s skin. The way he had glared at Damian beforehand and the smirk on his lips as he made the offer - how could no one else see it!? It had taken everything not to knock Drake out in that moment, and taken even more not to offer up his own old mantle, just to prove something.

Of course, then Todd had gone and died in Drake’s costume which really stained the whole affair.

It would be a lie to say that Richard’s arrival hadn’t worried Damian just a bit. Damian knew how the story went, knew the exact dance that was his father bringing in a new child. There was never a doubt in his mind that they would end up right here, with Richard preparing for his first night in the field. The question was what would he wear. Would he want to carry on Drake and Todd's legacy? Would he be allowed to? Who would stop him? Damian found himself, for the second time, with the urge to offer his own mantle in hopes of never having to answer those questions.

(For some reason, the idea of Richard being the second Shadow didn’t bother Damian as much as he thought it would. He was certainly a better successor than Drake. But, then again, everyone was better than Drake.)

Luckily, any intervention on his part was unneeded. Richard didn’t want to take on Drake and Todd's mantle: he already had ideas for his own. Sketches and magazine clip outs had seemed to appear out of nowhere, and Richard had talked a mile a minute trying to explain it all. All Damian could do was zone out, dazed by the amount of preparation the boy had done for something Damian hadn’t even considered.

Perhaps if he had paid more attention, Damian couldn’t help but mull, he would’ve been better prepared for… _this_.

“Ta-da!” Richard exclaimed as he bounced around in his new costume. It was Damian’s fault. He should’ve supervised more, should’ve looked over Richard’s sketches and gone to the fittings. How did he ever think, even for a second, that a 9-year-old could craft a practical uniform?

Richard’s design was… ridiculous, to say the least. He looked like a living traffic light in the bright reds, greens, and yellows that wrapped his body. His cape was comically short, the hem of it fluttering around his waist as hopped from foot to foot, and - oh my gosh - what was with his shoes? They were slip-ons of all things, flimsy with no type of arch or ankle support, and with their… unique shape, they could only be classified as pixie boots, something one might find in a pop-up Halloween store.

But that wasn’t the worst part. No, the worst part was his pants - or, rather, his _lack_ of pants.

Panties, that’s what they were. Scaly, green, sequined _panties_. While Richard’s skin was not pale by any means, his bare legs seemed to glow in the Batcave’s fluorescent lights. Damian could already see the blood and scars that would mar the smooth skin if they weren’t covered soon. Richard’s suit seemed to have no reinforcement but even the shoddy fabric that made up his vest would be a better alternative.

How could Richard think this was an acceptable outfit?

How could Pennyworth let this happen?

How could  _he_ let this happen?

“Damian?”

Damian blinked, realizing he’d been staring for too long. Richard had yet to still but he had deflated from a joyful jig to an awkward shuffle. His eyes were wide and inquisitive as he wrung a black domino mask between his hands. “So, uh, whatcha think?”

“Absolutely not.”

Richard’s face practically shattered, his nose scrunching, brows furrowing, and muscles stiffening before Damian could process his own words. He sniffed once, twice - oh no he was going to cry, wasn’t he? For a quick second, Richard’s blue eyes brimmed with tears, but then he squeezed his eyes closed tightly. When he opened them all signs of tears where gone, leaving behind a look of devastating disappointment and hurt.

The pain in Damian’s chest that look left behind was more than annoying.

“I am appalled that you would even think this to be an acceptable ensemble,” Damian continued, hoping the balm that was his words would soothe that annoying pain. “No type of padding, no reinforcement, you are not even 95 percent covered! Is this some type of game to you? Are you trying to get injured out there? If you cannot take this seriously–”

“I am taking this seriously!” Richard exclaimed, his voice laced with panic. Or maybe it was Damian who was panicking, though he wasn’t quite sure why. He was angry but there was something else there, something he didn’t quite want to analyze, nearly afraid with what he would find if he did.

(It was something that had been there for some time now, ever since that night when Richard had entered his room and took it upon himself actually asked how Damian was feeling about his presence and tried to compromise with him.)

“You obviously are not. A bullet would rip through that material like tissue paper, a blind person could see those colors 3 miles away, and do not even get me started on your legs! Did you honestly think you could fight crime in panties?”

“They’re not _panties_!”

“Yeah, and I’m not Batman.”

“You’re _not_ Batman! Bruce is Batman!”

“Father is dead! We have talked about this, Grayson!” Grayson reeled back, as if the sound of his name had physically assaulted him. Maybe it had, considering how long it took for them to get to a first name basis, but Damian couldn’t make himself care. They had talked about it, many many times. And Grayson had encouraged him to take the mantle, had said Damian would be a great Batman, had wanted to work beside him. But apparently he had lied.

Damian didn’t have time for liars.

“Just… go to your room. I refuse to patrol with a laughingstock.” Damian spun on his heels and stalked towards the Batcomputer, ignoring the sharp gasp of pain and sniff Grayson had expelled. He plopped down in the computer’s plush rolling chair, busying himself with powering up the computer as the sound of velcro - _velcro_ \- filled the cave. A quick glance over his shoulder showed that Grayson had discarded the cape and vest on the ground, revealing that the shorts were in fact not panties, but rather the bottom part of a green unitard.

Still didn’t explain the questionable placement of sequin.

With a muted sigh, Damian turned back to the computer, losing himself in the files as Grayson sulked away.

 

**~*~**

 

“How could you let Grayson wear such an atrocity!?” Damian exclaimed as soon as he entered the kitchen. He still wore the Batsuit’s under armor despite the strict rule to leave all uniform pieces in the bunker below. He couldn’t make himself take off everything, was frustrated that he had to take off anything. But he couldn’t go patrolling by himself. Not while bearing this mantle. It didn’t feel right.

“Whatever do you mean, Master Damian?” Pennyworth replied with _that_ tone, the one that was uniquely Pennyworth and completely infuriating.

“You know exactly what I mean, Pennyworth. That costume of Grayson’s is completely unacceptable! He will die wearing that!”

Pennyworth sighed. He placed down the spoon he was using to stir their post-patrol dinner, turned down the stove’s flame, and turned towards Damian, a gray eyebrow raised. “There seems to be some misunderstanding, young sir. I do not design the costume, I simply stitch it together. It is your responsibility to make sure that Young Master Richard is properly dressed for any outings you may have, and to assure that he is properly protected during said outings. I may give the occasional critique or sought after advice but other than that, I have no duty to make anything _acceptable_.”

“That is bullshit!” Damian snarled, his scowl only deepening when Pennyworth had the audacity to chide his language. “You spent my entire childhood wrangling Father into taking care of himself and making sure he was always in proper condition before letting him out for the night. Do not tell me that you cannot do the same for Grayson!”

“As your father’s former guardian, I took it as a personal responsibility to make sure he was always in good health. You are Master Richard’s guardian now, thus it is your responsibility to do the same for him. I gave him my concerns and learned his well-founded reasons for wanting to wear such an outfit. I still did not agree, however, he assured me he had your approval. …You did approve his costume, right Master Damian?”

Damian pressed his lips tightly together, fighting against the heat spreading across his face. He could not remember what he had said when Grayson presented his ideas? Had he simply waved the boy off or did he actually give some sort of appraisal? Whatever remarks he had made, he had accidentally given the child the impression that he approved of his choice in outfit.

Pennyworth’s silver eyes roamed his face knowingly before he let out an inaudible sigh. With a small shake of his head, he turned back to his cooking, returning the flame to its previous height and picking up the spoon once more. “I believe we have found the problem. You said you wanted to be Master Richard’s new guardian. This is what comes with the title.”

Damian worked his jaw, fist clenching and unclenching at his side. The problem had indeed been found and it was him. He wanted to argue, but he knew Pennyworth was correct. He had neglected his duties as Grayson’s guardian. With a grunt he made up his mind, straightening his back and turning on his heels. He’ll talk to the boy, discover his “well-founded reasons” behind the abomination that was his costume, and then make him see reason.

“Oh, and Master Damian?” Pennyworth called out as Damian strode towards the door. Damian looked over his shoulder at the elder, watching as Pennyworth turned off the stove and balanced the spoon on the edge of the pot. “I hope you do not actually believe that I would ever let Master Richard outside the house dressed like that. I would never comprise a real costume out of such cheap fabric and _velcro_.”

 

**~*~**

 

Damian found Grayson curled up in the center of his bed, his room nothing but a mosaic of shadows. It was a pitiful sight, one that made Damian feel a great amount of shame for a reason he couldn’t explain. It was obvious that the boy was crying, even if he wasn’t making a sound. The way his whole body shook and the light hitches in his breath was evidence enough.

“Gray-… em, Richard?” Damian winced at his stutter, and winced again as Richard stiffened on the bed. He froze before curling further into himself, leaving Damian to fight the desire to grab him by the ankle and force him to uncurl. Instead, Damian busied his hands with finding the light switch, flooding the room with light once he found it. “Richard, I just want to talk.”

Damian waited with bated breath for some type of acknowledgment. His fingers wouldn’t stop fluttering, which only served to worsen his agitation. He had been trained by the best to control all nervous tics, yet here he was, unable to hide how uncomfortable he was. And why was he so uncomfortable? He was well versed in dealing with other’s idiocy and held faith in his ability to change Richard’s mind. So why was simply speaking to the distraught boy so hard? With a heavy sigh, Damian tried again.

“Richar-”

“What do you want?” The response itself was unexpected, but the dejected tone was even worse. Richard sounded as he did when he first came to the Manor, deep in mourning and filled with anger and despair. Damian had to admit it: that tone broke his heart.

“Richard, please, sit up. I want to know why you designed your costume the way you did.”

“I already told you,” Richard said as he pulled himself into a sitting position anyway. His bright blue eyes were dull and lifeless, partly hidden by usually bouncy curls that hung in his face. Everything about Richard seemed to droop, from his hair to his lips to his posture. It was wrong on so many levels: even after his parents’ deaths, Richard had had a stubborn spring to his step.

“I admit that I was not the most attentive when you took the time to explain your choices to me. For that, I apologize. I am ready to listen now, if you are willing to explain once more.”

The look Richard gave him was not the trustworthy one that Damian had come to expect from the boy. Still, Richard straightened ever so slightly and gave a small nod. Then he held out a piece of crumpled paper.

“What…?” Damian whispered as took the paper. Smoothing it out he saw that it was a picture. From it, Richard smiled up at him, eyes sparkling and smile so wide that Damian could feel his own cheeks cramping. Damian ran his thumb over the image, taking it all in. The trailers in the background, the blur in the corner where a finger was covering the camera’s lens, the costume Richard wore-

_The costume Richard wore._

Damian felt sick as his eyes roamed over the attire Richard adorned in the photo. It was, in its most basic sense, a sparklier version of the costume he had tried to wear tonight. A tight green unitard hugged his tiny body, the top part of it covered by a red vest that hadn’t been properly fastened; a golden sash was tied tightly around his waist, and the tips of those damn pixie boots pointed sky-high. There was even a cape, one with a ridiculously high collar that Damian was glad Richard didn’t try to duplicate, though he’d wish he had kept the length the same. Well, at least he decided to tone down on the sequin, that marked everything besides the boots and the vest.

“That was supposed to be our costume for the next show,” Richard said, pulling Damian’s attention back to him. “Y’know, the one after Gotham. But then… then the trapeze… the line, it… y’know! And I’m never leaving Gotham so I thought why not wear it now? I loved that costume so I thought maybe with a few alterations it could be Robin’s costume!”

“Robin?”

Richard sighed, head hanging as he pulled at the comforter beneath him. “It was my mom’s nickname for me. I wanted to use it as my superhero name. I know it’s stupid-”

“No, it is… understandable. But you must understand that… this costume is… it is, um-” Damian pulled his bottom lip between his teeth, biting down until the metallic taste of blood filled his mouth. Silence was better than stuttering and stuttering was all Damian could do right now. He had been prepared to set Richard straight but he hadn’t been prepared for _this_. How could he tell Richard that the costume of his parents was wrong?

 _You’ve already did_ , a nasty voice whispered in the back of Damian’s mind, causing Damian to flinch. He couldn’t even be mad at it: he _had_ already told Richard in very clear, very _harsh_ , words exactly what he thought of his parents’ costume.

“Richard, while I can understand the sentimental logic behind your choices, I simply cannot allow you to fight crime in that outfit. The skills you’ve learned on the trapeze may have been adaptable to your fighting style, but the same cannot be said for your circus costume.”

“But I made alterations! Like the cape! I shortened it since that one was more for show and not really for flying-”

“And it would be an excellent alteration if you was on the trapeze. But crime fighting is more than just ‘flying’, as you put it. The costume does not work Richard. I am sorry.” Damian didn’t know what exactly he was sorry for but it felt like the right thing to say. Still, Richard’s shoulders slumped and his lip wobbled.

“But-” Richard was cut off as a sob escaped his lips. He quickly threw an arm over his eyes, but that did little to hide the shake of his body or the sounds he tried so hard to quell. It took everything within Damian not to fidget; he didn’t know what to say or do to calm Richard down.

“But, I don’t - have any - other - ideas! Bat-Batman needs a - partner. Please, Dami!” Richard choked out between sobs.

“We will figure out something,” Damian said in what he hoped to be a soothing tone. However, his words only seemed to make Richard curl into himself once more. He shook his head wildly, pulling his feet onto the bed and sandwiching his head between his knees. Damian could do nothing but sit there awkward and attempt to block out the scene next to him until Richard could calm himself. When he finally did, he was back to the zombie-like state Damian had found him in, body so still Damian wasn't sure if he was breathing.

“Richard…” No response. Damian closed his eyes and took a deep breath, already regretting the words about to come off his lips. “You can wear the costume tonight.”

Richard’s head shot up, bloodshot eyes wide and mouth agape.

“But _only_ for tonight. Tomorrow we will try to make some more alterations. Like _pants_. There are leotards with pants, you know.”

“Pants!? Pants are a luxury! My costume is designed to be aerodynamically perfect,” Richard announced with the huge smile Damian was used to.

“Richard…” Damin drawled and, _no_ , Damian most certainly was not grinning.

“What happened to safety? If I were to wear pants, my crime-fighting abilities would be decreased by 20%! I can’t afford that, can you?“ By now Richard was practically vibrating in his seat. Damian shook his head, slightly turning his face away - _not_ to hide his smile or anything, though. Damian was _not_ smiling. _Honestly_!

“You’re insufferable, Richard. Go get dress, we are already late.”

Richard pushed himself halfway off the bed before freezing, the smile on his face slowly melting away. “But, I thought you didn’t want to patrol with a laughingstock…” Damian flinched once more, this time harder with no hopes of hiding it. **  
**

“You are not a laughingstock, Richard, and I am sorry for calling you one. Anyone who dares to laugh at you will have to deal with my sword! Try laughing at _that_.”

A heavy weight Damian hadn’t noticed before lifted from his chest as Richard’s smile sprung back into place, and the boy gave a hearty laugh. “Batman doesn’t carry a sword, silly!”

“This one does. Now _go_ , Richard!”

Richard darted out of the room, faster than any speedster. Damian didn’t move right away. He would have to keep Richard safe tonight. Keep Richard on the rooftops, away from any fighting. Tonight would obviously be mostly charity work, maybe a chance to work on Richard’s observational skills. Everything would be fine. Tomorrow they’ll get him a new uniform and then the real stuff could begin.

With a solid plan in mind, Damian pushed himself off the bed. A quick word to Pennyworth, then he was in the Batcave, slipping on the remainder of the Batsuit. Soon enough they were strapped in the Batmobile, ready for their first night as the new Dynamic Duo.

“Ready, Robin?” Damian asked the boy next to him, secretly liking the way the chosen name felt on his tongue. Richard, who was one second from exploding with excitement, could barely answer and settled on a jerky nod instead. With a smirk, Damian reached over and turned on the air conditioning to its highest setting.

“Hey!” Richard screeched.

Damian watched with enjoyment as the boy shivered, his bare legs pimpling with goosebumps. Richard pulled his knees to his chest, desperately trying to wrap his ridiculously short cape around his naked skin. Damian held his breath to keep from laughing and focused on maneuvering the car out the cave.

Oh, yes. Richard would definitely be wearing pants tomorrow.

**Author's Note:**

> So I always loved the canon that says Dick designed the first Robin costume like that as a tribute to his parents. I changed it to be a remake of their next costume rather than their current costume because:
> 
> 1.) If it was a remake of the current costume, there would be no way that Damian wouldn't recognize that and be gentle (as gentle as Damian can get) from the start.
> 
> and
> 
> 2.) There would also be no way that the rest of Gotham wouldn't notice that (anyone that was at the circus that night or read any of the articles about their fall) and it would compromise Batman and Robin's identities.


End file.
